“Get off the table, Samel - I won’t say it again!” I bellowed, voice playful and gravelly. I raised my hands in monster-claws and Samel gave a high-pitched squeal.
The toddler jumped off the kitchen table, and I caught him with ease with an outstretched arm, tan and work-hardened, swooping him upwards and away from the wooden floor. The air was warm, full of scents of toasting bread and fresh cut fruit. I held Samel in my arms as I walked behind Brynn as she put away a new batch of jarred berries, freshly picked and stewed from this morning’s harvest. I tucked a long strand of gold curls behind her ear with a free hand before placing it on the small of her back. She smiled at me as we both turned and looked out the window to see the sanded alcove, gentle waves of black lapping up the white coast. Little Phoebe is playing in the sand, next to the crooked dock I’ve been meaning to fix, making little castles and promptly stomping them under her tiny feet.
Brynn and I laughed at the sight, and Samel started to giggle too, not wanting to miss out in the fun. He then kicked at me, impatient from being held for so long, and I let him down to go run outside to join his sister.
Brynn took my calloused hand in hers and we watched them play together, using sticks as swords as they jumped between the white dunes, laughing.
This was joy.
This was peace.
This was-
Suddenly there was a sound, coming from the back of the hallway.
I turned to Brynn, “Do you hear that?”
She shakes her head no and shrugs.
“Stay here.”
I crossed through the small kitchen, watching my feet as I stepped over far too many toys - carved dragons, tied-rope dolls, eventually stubbing my toe on yet another fake wooden lance. I let out a curse and Brynn shot me a look from across the kitchen that could kill.
The gentle melody from the other side of the house got louder, but to my confusion, the hall seemed much longer than I remembered. Slightly disoriented, I took longer and longer strides, trying to reach the strange song, until I was in a full-sprint. But the hallway continued to stretch - longer and longer, wooden planks creaking as they stretched beneath my feet. The last door was just beneath my fingertips, haunting sound, like chiming words, just out of my grasp.
So close.
Almost there.
Almost-
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With a harrowing inhale, I took a shattering, shaking breath, surprised to see Ciro’s face doing the same before me. His glassy eyes were wide, but to my relief, blinking just before my face.
“You - you -” he struggled between gasps of air, “You brought me back, Mira.”
I gave a quick nod and braced myself, wiping cold sweat from my brow.
Would he too be upset at me, as Gaelenod was? From what I saw, he was at peace - and I ripped that away from him.
But, to my relief, Ciro started to laugh. A big bolstering chuckle echoed between the rocks, and I gave him a smile in return, shaking my head in the madness.
Lumo knelt beside us, a hand on each of our shoulders.
“Glad to have you both back,” he smiled.
It was then that it hit me.
Samel.
Phoebe.
Ciro had children.
Ciro’s words of when he first told his tale echoed in my head.
‘And we fought… and I lost. I lost everything…’
I made a sudden lunge forward, in a grasping hug, I held Ciro tight. There was a great swell of emotion in me - everything I saw, everything I felt as I saw through Ciro’s eyes was so frightfully real. Ciro became quite stiff and silent beneath my tight hug, but I did not want to let go.
I saw their small faces, filled with the ease and joy of a life without worry - a life that would be ripped away from him. With the sudden onslaught of emotions, I began to sob, and Ciro began to relax, giving me an awkward pat on the back.
“I’m…” he cleared his throat, “I’m guessing you saw them?”
I nodded, finally pulling away from him and looking down.
“No need to cry, Mira… Just an old man’s memories. Here, look at me,” Ciro said, hand on my chin. I looked up, vision still blurred through the tears.
“I’ve done my mourning - the past is the past,” he grumbled, “But now look at those eyes of yours - you’ll be looking like me before you know it. Hope his magic tasted good, that self-righteous piece of-”
“Ciro,” interrupted Lumo.
“What?” he laughed.
“‘The past is the past’? Really?” Lumo said, jaw tight.
Ciro grunted, “We are not doing this again, Lumo. My fighting days are over.”
Lumo kicked Ciro’s halberd away from his feet, turning away from us.
“Unbelievable,” Lumo muttered under his breath.
“Kid - I go through what happened that day every single day of my life -”
“Yet you still blame yourself,” Lumo said coldly.
There was a tense silence between them, as both stared at each other in unspoken anger, jaws tight.
“I’ve done my fighting - and I am done spilling blood for things that I can never change. You may still have that anger fueling you but I am… Gods, I am tired,” Ciro sighed, standing, then leaned over to grab his halberd off the rocks, hoisting it over his shoulder.
I then watched Ciro as he took slow steps towards the ward-covered path to his cavern home. I stood, jogging behind him to keep up.
“Ciro!” I called.
Ciro stopped, still not turning back to face me.
“Mira, you are always welcome to stay here… But my fight is over,” he said.
“Stubborn old man,” Lumo muttered behind me.
“Wait -” I stammered, “If… If your courier doesn’t come back then… then you won’t have any more… any more…”
No more food.
No more drink.
No more magic.
“As I said, my fight is over,” he called, back still towards us.
“SELFISH. Old.Man,” Lumo spat, “Go hide away in your drink once more. Sleep away your days while the Barrens burn and Solia disciples are sent to an early grave. I’m sure Brynn would be proud.”
The air grew thick at the mention of her name, but Ciro still did not turn to face us. The only sound in the silence was a gentle howl from between the jagged rocks, stoic and shattered like ancient headstones.
“I… I can’t do this alone, old friend,” Lumo said, voice softer this time.
But Ciro then began to walk again, steady and slow pace towards his home, leaving us behind for good. I closed my eyes, no tears left to fall, but the hollow sadness was still there, aching pressure in my dry throat. Lumo placed a hand on my shoulder behind me.
We watched him in his slow, toiling pace, using his halberd as walking stick, as he made his way in front of us through the rocky path, crossing past sharp boulders, until we couldn’t see him anymore. Dragon now gone, the wind began its previous assault, and I held my hand to my chest, fingers twisting the Binding Chain around my neck.
Beneath my fingers, I still felt the same residual warmth of when I first absorbed the knight’s magic. The chill of the wind, once numbing and unbearable, was now just a fine breeze against my skin, even though I had used it to bring back Ciro.
“Come now, we best be off,” said Lumo behind me, breaking the silence, “Word travels fast and I’d hate to see what she sends next, now that she lost a precious Dragonrider.”
I turned to Lumo, finally facing him.
“Where… where now?”
“Well - If we are really going to do this, you will need to be wearing better protection than these traveling cloaks. You’ll need something magicked, especially with the bounty on your head being high enough to get the attention of Dragonrider.”
I nodded.
“It can’t be any magicked armor either, no,” he said as he began to jump between the rocks, hand to his chin, “Nothing from any ordinary vendor or modern saged blacksmith. It needs to be unpierceable, ancient even, if we want it to last.”
I closed my eyes, thinking back to all the stories I’ve read. But only one example came to mind, one that I did not dare to say.
Lumo stopped, staring at me through golden mask, a smile starting on his face.
“What’s that look, Mira? Did you think of one?”
I shook my head, grimacing.
“Come on now-”
“Castle Locus,” I swallowed.
A bright grin spread across his lips.
“The Cursed Queen’s armor at… at Castle Locus,” I sighed. “But it’s impossible. It’s-”
“Oh, it’s perfect, Mira,” he laughed, “You really are a brave one. First you were excited to face a Dragonrider - and now you want to take on the Cursed Queen? Fantastic.”
“No -No. That was just the only one I could think of. Castle Locus is a place of nightmares, I have absolutely no desire to step inside those halls. It’s a deathwish.”
“But, the Cursed Queen’s armor is indeed powerful - it’s the only thing keeping her alive in that dreadful place. It’s perfect Mira, really. Great choice.”
“Lumo - wait. You can’t seriously be considering this. There has to be some other way.”
But he only smiled and shrugged. His mind was made up.
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Instead of going the direct route to Castle Locus, a backtracking southeastern path back hugging the forest of Yormen, we decided to go northward, eventually cutting east to use the Valencte Mountain range as shield. The goal was to put as much distance between us and the Herculea School as possible, although this route would take twice the amount of time.
It was late afternoon by the time we finally stopped. After hours and hours of watching Lumo leap from rocky outcrop to rocky outcrop, I finally surrendered to the blisters on my feet, and let Lumo know that I needed a break. He agreed, and we made a small encampment using one of the shale outcrops as cover. With the lowered sun, I fell the looming chill of the mountain air as it made its way through cracks in the rock, and although I was not completely freezing, the small magicked fire Lumo created was of great comfort.
I sat, using my cloak as a barrier between the cold of the rocks, and removed my high boots as I watched Lumo work. He was creating tiny knotted wards using nearby weeds that had made their way through the rock by some chance of fate. I watched in wonder as his long thin fingers meticulously weaved tiny circling knots, each more delicate than the last.
“Why make them using the weeds? Wouldn’t it be much easier to conjure them as you did the tents?” I asked.
“Easier, sure. But they’re much more powerful if you make them from the earth in which they already grow. Plus, I rather enjoy making them - it’s quite meditative,” Lumo smiled.
“Can you… can you teach me how to make them?” I asked.
Lumo stopped his weaving to look at me, smile wide.
“I would love to,” he chuckled.
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Making wards was more difficult than he had made it look, but I followed his instructions as diligently as I could manage. Each twist and turn of the thin grass proved a bit more challenging than I imagined, and I accidentally snapped the fragile braids more than once. But Lumo was patient with me, showing me how to warm the bends with my fingers, avoiding tiny splits and cracks in the dry edges of the blades. Every now and again, he would take my hands in his, showing me with his own how to tie the ward just right to get the most protection, causing me to shake as hostage to my nerves.
As the first stars started to appear, we had made about a dozen. Well, I had made only four to his eight. But I was still quite proud of my accomplishment, and I could tell that Lumo was too, by the way we both celebrated when I completed the fourth without any help.
In the cheers, he kissed me on my forehead - for a third time by my count, but it still gave me the same rush of butterflies just the same. I had no doubt he knew what he was doing though as he had the same wide smile after he pulled away, and I could feel my face turn rose red, although hopefully slightly hidden in the firelight.
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“We should be a bit past Yhosa if we make good time tomorrow. I might fly ahead and rent us a horse for you to ride there in town, just to save your feet,” Lumo said as I ate.
He had conjured up yet another thick vegetable stew and some fire warmed bread, the most perfect meal on a chilly night, especially after all the travel.
“Couldn’t you turn yourself into a horse? Save you some money,” I teased between bites.
“You laugh, but I did consider it,” Lumo said flatly, stretching his arms over his head. “Either way, we should rest as soon as you’re done - long day ahead of us.”
I nodded with a smile, trying to hide my hesitation.
Although last night was fine, I did dread the prospect of another encounter with Herculea in my dreams. She had found me before, but what was to stop her from finding me again. Having Lumo there was comfort, now knowing that it was very well him who protected me in the last dream encounter, but it still terrified me. What if she trapped me; what if I was to never wake up again, hostage to my own body as another one of her warriors was sent to heed the bounty.
I thought of this as I lay in my bedroll, covers pulled tight to my chin. The makeshift canvas covering was much smaller in this encampment - only a curtain hung on the above rocks, held still with smaller boulders but still whipping in the night wind. Lumo declined cover and told me that he would much rather patrol and keep watch tonight instead - despite my protests that he needed to rest.
Every once in a while, in my restlessness, I would peek through the canvas cover and see Lumo sitting there, stoically watching the fire alone in the dark. It was strange to see him so serious but I knew there must be a lot on his mind. I turned away from him, ashamed at myself for looking at him during what seemed to be such a private moment.
He was created for a single purpose - to be the partner and eventual husband of a Guide that, from what I could tell, he did not particularly like. I could only imagine what sort of pain and frustration he must carry with him. I thought of why I was even here - it was out of his kindness that I was here in the first place. He was the only reason I had any sort of choice in my own path to begin with. But what did he get out of it? Was I here so that he would not have to fight this alone? Was this his plan all along?
If true, I was grateful he chose me…
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